


1936

by ivelostallcontrolofmylife



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Childhood Memories, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Recovered Memories, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5023285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostallcontrolofmylife/pseuds/ivelostallcontrolofmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is in the care of the Avengers and is slowly recovering from his years of brainwashing. He has a nightmare, and Steve goes to help him. But he gets a surprise when he realises Bucky's started remembering things from what feels like a very long time ago, in a very cold winter...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1936

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I have an obsession with recovering Bucky and teenage Stucky but I do and this is the result

“Mr Rogers.”

He vaguely heard his name, drawing him out of sleep, but it didn’t really click until the call was repeated. He jerked awake and sat up quickly, propping himself up on one hand. Groggily, he looked around the darkened room for the source of the voice. It spoke again, disembodied and dull. 

“Apologies for waking you, Mr Rogers, but you requested to be notified if there was any change in Mr Barnes.”

The words filtered through a still-somewhat-foggy haze of sleep, until the name – and then Steve bolted out of bed to the closest computer screen in the room. For once, he was glad for the amount of technology Tony insisted on filling all the rooms with. The screen switched on, almost blinding him. The voice spoke again. “The live feed for you, sir.” Steve couldn’t remember what they were calling this AI, but he missed Jarvis’s warmth. 

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light and when they did, he saw the layout of Bucky’s room. Tony had wanted a cell. Steve had refused. They’d compromised on the Spartan, bolted room Steve surveyed on the screen. His gaze was drawn to movement in the centre. On the bed, a figure that seemed too small to be Bucky tossed and turned violently, every muscle in his body taut and on edge. Steve gritted his teeth. He hated seeing Bucky like this. He’d seen much worse fits from him in the earlier months, trying to bring him back from the decades of abuse he’d suffered. But this was a different kind of hurt in Steve’s heart. Bucky had made so much progress and to see it all vanish in the span of a nightmare was impossible to watch. 

“I’m –” Steve didn’t have the chance to finish addressing the AI. Bucky hurled himself upright, gripping the bedsheets and, seemingly unable to wake, screamed. It flooded through the computer’s speakers and bounced off the walls of the hallway outside, a terrifying echo that before it had ebbed away, had Steve racing towards the source. 

Bursting into Bucky’s room, he wasn’t sure what he’d find. But little had changed in the minute it had taken to reach him. Bucky was still sitting upright, eyes shut tight as he let out a strangled sob. Steve ran to his side and dropped to his knees next to the bed, grabbing the other’s shoulder. 

“Bucky, wake up,” he urged, holding on tightly. Bucky fought, sucking in a short breath in surprise and trying to duck away from the touch. Steve didn’t let go. He shook him and said again, “Bucky, come on, wake up!”

Bucky’s eyes flew open and for a split second, he was completely still. And then, sensing Steve’s hand, he threw himself to the side and crashed to the floor on the other side of the bed. Steve got to his feet, but before he could go to him a wary voice behind him interrupted. 

“What’s going on?”

He turned to see Natasha standing in the open doorway, a small knife held delicately by her side. He doubted it was the only weapon she had on her. 

“Nothing. I’ve got this.”

Natasha eyed him carefully, then nodded. “I’ll check on Bruce. I haven’t heard him Hulk out, but I can’t imagine that was a peaceful wake up for him.”

She disappeared and Steve returned his attention to Bucky. He moved quietly to the other side of the bed. Bucky sat slumped on the floor, half-leaning on the wall behind him, hair obscuring part of his face. Steve knelt in front of him and asked, “How are you feeling?”

It took a long minute for a response. Bucky clenched his fist a few times, staring at his metal hand and the way his fingers closed over his palm. Then he looked up and met Steve’s eye. All Steve could see was the same repressed fear that he’d been seeing for months.

“I’m fine.” His voice grated and he cleared his throat, but said nothing more. 

“Don’t pull that shit with me,” Steve said firmly. “You don’t have to talk about it, but you can’t pretend that this didn’t just happen.”

Bucky blinked slowly, keeping his gaze on the man in front of him. Steve took the span of silence to take in Bucky’s face – a habit he’d made over the past months. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was there, alive, right in front of him – this man he’d thought he’d lost so long ago. He took in every small mark and line on Bucky’s face, the dark circles under his eyes, the twitch of his mouth as he replied, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. What do you want? Do you want to get up, do something to take your mind off it? Or go back to sleep? D-Do you want me to stay?”

If Bucky noticed his stumble, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, in the low light from the doorway, Steve saw a redness come over Bucky’s cheeks as he looked away suddenly. “I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t the question. What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky said quietly. Still he refused to look at him. Steve bit his lip. “It does, Buck. I know it’ll take some getting used to, but what you want does matter. It is important.”

Bucky’s response was so quiet he wasn’t sure he’d said anything at all. But the way he turned his head even further away, curled his legs up against himself protectively, told Steve otherwise. 

“Say again?”

“Winter.” Bucky’s voice was faint and faraway, his eyes just as distant as he stared at the floor. “1936.”

Even with so vague a date, Steve’s memory instantly shot him to the exact nights Bucky was talking about. He smiled slightly, a tinge of red colouring his own cheeks as he asked, “That’s what you want?”

Bucky didn’t answer. Steve got to his feet and held out a hand. “Come on then.”

Bucky looked up at him then, confusion burning in his dark, fearful eyes.

“There’s not enough room here,” Steve said. He waited, and eventually Bucky lifted a hand hesitantly and took Steve’s. He pulled him up from the floor and without pause, led him from the room. Bucky stumbled behind without protest.

It took a little longer to get back to Steve’s room than it had to run to Bucky’s. Once they were inside, Steve told the AI to lock the doors and allow no interruptions. Then he led Bucky towards the bed and sat down on the edge. Bucky remained standing. Their joined hands stretched between them, their fingers loosely linked.

“You remember those nights?” Steve asked softly. 

Bucky nodded and looked away. “It was so cold.”

Steve smiled. “Coldest winter for a while.”

He fell silent, just raking his gaze over the man standing awkwardly in front of him. In the shadows of his room, he looked so small and fragile. 

“Do you want to be here?”

Bucky looked at him again, the fear ever-present in his eyes. He nodded once.

“Then sit down.” Steve tugged him closer and Bucky did as he was told, dropping down heavily next to him. They sat there in silence for a moment, resting on each other. 

“I missed you,” Steve said.

Bucky was quiet. Then, haltingly, he said, “In the beginning… I missed you too.”

Gently Steve kissed Bucky’s jaw, allowing memories of a bitter winter to flood back to him, of two boys, one just in and one just shy of adulthood, of curling up together for warmth on long nights alone, of a soft first kiss on stubble and Bucky’s arms around him. Steve could feel the heat of fear on the other’s skin but despite it, Bucky nudged his face towards him and sighed. 

“Tired?”

Bucky nodded. Steve pulled back the blankets for both of them and as Bucky settled down, he commented, “You still sleep on the same side of the bed.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.” He dragged the blankets back up over them and twisted on his side to face Bucky. He found him staring at his metal arm again, clenching and unclenching his fingers. Steve reached out and clasped his hand over Bucky’s fist, startling him.

“You should sleep,” he said. Bucky stared at him for a moment, then a slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He rolled onto his side and Steve curled up against his back. Stretching out in front of them, their fingers remained entwined.

“Good night, Buck.”

A beat. And then, “Good night… Steve.”


End file.
